


when you smile i am undone

by mayaschuyler



Series: and you'll blow us all away [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayaschuyler/pseuds/mayaschuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Philip met Theo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you smile i am undone

**Author's Note:**

> what is it about this show that releases all this pent up creativity? i've barely written in years and suddenly i've got two one-shots in two days? the power of hamilton, i suppose.

The first time he sees her, he’s perched under an oak tree in the field behind their house, reviewing his French lessons. Even under the protective shade of the branches, the heat seeps into his bones. His collar is undone, shirt damp with sweat and he can tell from the heat on his face that he should probably go back inside. He thinks of his mother’s scolding tone, cool hand pressed against his pink cheek. “Philip, why do you stay outside for so long? You know that the sun makes your skin freckle.” She’d tsk, instructing him to take a cool washcloth and hoping that the redness goes down, not knowing her son had heard the giggles and whispers of the girls around town about his bright eyes, not blue or green, but a sweet, shining hazel; his freckled skin and charming smile.

 

He’s sitting up, eyes closed, letting the cool breeze wash over his damp skin. The air is fresh and crisp and he inhales deeply, relishing in the sweet smell of grass and wheat. They are far enough from the city that the air isn’t permeated with the smells of dirty horses and sewage. He loves the country for that reason; the open space, endless green pastures. It’s as if the fields go on for miles and miles, an endless ocean of fresh earth.

 

“Charles!” His eyes shoot open, reverence broken by a sharp, high voice. For a moment, there’s nothing and he wonders if he imagined it before-

 

“Charles!” He jumps, the voice closer than before, more exasperated and followed by heavy panting. There’s more silence and he hears faint rustling. He can feel the person’s presence nearby, but doesn’t dare move not wanting to startle both them and the air, which is completely still.

 

Suddenly, a loud screech and this time he does scramble to stand up, knowing the familiar sound of a cat in anguish. A blur of brown and black fur scurries past him, a flurry of petticoats and dark hair following not far behind. “Charles, please stop running,” he hears, the frustration clear in her voice. As the weight of the petticoats and heat catch up to her, she slows considerably, the cat darting into a hole underneath their house. He watches the girl huff, stamping her foot indignantly, the hems of her petticoats brown with dust. She’s panting, hands resting on her hips, staring at the hole the creature claimed as a hiding spot.

 

He opens his mouth to speak but hesitates, watching her frantically brush at her skirts in an attempt to regain her composure. Her dark skin, or what little he can see of it, is shiny with sweat, dark hair pulled into a bun that's coming loose, a few kinky strands hanging on the side. She’s slim, the corsets giving the the golden hourglass shape he sees women torturing themselves to get. He wonders how she’s still standing with all the heavy clothes on in this weather.

 

He bites his lip. “That’s the only hole under the porch.” She turns, a bit frazzled. “He’ll have to come back out eventually.”

 

She studies him for a moment, crossing her arms over he chest protectively. “ _She._ ”

 

Philip stammers. “S-Sorry, I could have sworn you'd said ‘Charles’. I must have been mistaken.”

 

She smirks, shoulders relaxing. “I did.” She saunters forward teasingly, deep brown eyes twinkling with humor. “I’ve never been one for conventional things. The name’s Theo.” She boldly extends her hand.

 

“‘Theo’,” he squints, wondering if she’s pulling his leg. “As in ‘Theodore’?” 

 

“‘Theo’ as in ‘Theodosia’. But everyone calls me ‘Theo’.” She looks directly at him, hand still stretched towards him.

 

They stay like that for a moment, silently challenging the other. Her dark, brown eyes boring into his light hazel. He can feel her sizing him up, daring him to make his move. The sun rays beat down on them, the sting of oncoming sunburn on their skin but they stand strong, neither wanting to back down.

 

He sees a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face and grins, heart flipping as she remains unfazed. “Philip.” He grasps her hand firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, Theo.”

 

She squeezes, shoulders straightening, smile impossibly wide. “The pleasure is all mine. Shall we wait for dear Charles to make her way out of her hiding cave?” She gestures towards the oak where Philip’s papers are still scattered.

 

“Perhaps we should wait indoors, away from this glaringly harsh sunlight,” he shields his eyes grandly, putting on a British accent fit for a king. “May I offer my dear lady some fine refreshments?” He bows, offering her his hand.

 

Theo laughs, smile big enough to split her face in two, stray curls bouncing gently around her face. “How presumptuous of you, my dear,” her voice thick and melodious. “I do believe one should get to know their mistress before inviting her into his home.”

 

He falters a bit, worry creeping up his chest. His heart is beating wildly, from the heat or her smile he’s not sure. Meekly, he stands straight, lower lip between his teeth, dreading her next words.

 

“But,” she nonchalantly studies her dainty fingers, “I suppose a glass of cold lemonade wouldn’t hurt.” She smirks, holding her hand out to him. “Shall we?”

 

Philip's stomach does somersaults as he lets her lead him into his home, dainty fingers firmly grasping his calloused, ink stained ones. And with his heart racing, clammy hands held tight, he knows he’ll follow her to the ends of the earth and back.

 


End file.
